


Heavy

by impravidus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt Peter Parker, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poisoning, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impravidus/pseuds/impravidus
Summary: Climate change research paper? Revised, re-revised, and ready to go!Post-lab for AP Bio? Finished even before he got off of the subway!Fight giant anthropomorphic strawberry plants?Uh… what?
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 160





	Heavy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pokeydotes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokeydotes/gifts).



Peter has a list of things to do tonight.

Lists are nice. He has a lot going on in his life and sometimes he just needs to have a physical list of things so that he can get the satisfaction of crossing things off of. It keeps him organized. It keeps him sustaining the threadbare amount of control in his every day.

His list is simple. It’s reliable. 

Climate change research paper? Revised, re-revised, and ready to go!

Post-lab for AP Bio? Finished even before he got off of the subway!

Fight giant anthropomorphic strawberry plants?

Uh…. what?

He’s in the middle of a film analysis when he gets the call.

Considering the fact he is still in school, he doesn’t get called into the big Avenger all-calls unless it is absolutely necessary.

So, apparently, on a Tuesday evening, it’s urgent enough that they need Spider-Man.

Peter shimmies his suit on, his foot getting caught on his rug and almost sending him toppling to the floor.

He leaves May and Happy a quick message and swings out from his window.

Nerves begin to rattle around in his brain, worst case scenarios building and growing until Peter’s completely on edge. _What is this big bad?_

He has to run for the last fifteen minutes because the strawberry field is far from any trees or buildings and when he arrives, his jaw drops.

The creatures are made of spindly green vines, giant strawberries for heads with giant seeds for teeth and smaller, but no less giant, strawberries for hands that they are using as flails. Tinier strawberries decorate their bodies and gush strawberry juice as they crash to the ground.

“Underoos! Just in time!” Tony greets in his comms.

“Where do you need me, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks.

“Web their feet. Make them stationary. We’ll take it from there,” Steve replies.

“Got it!” 

Peter jumps into the action. He flips around their giant green feet, wrapping their legs in webs and sending them falling to the ground.

Peter yelps as one falls forward, almost landing on top of him. As he’s jumping out of the way, a giant strawberry collides with his back, sending him flying across the strawberry field and face first into the dirt. 

The dirt seeps into his mask and makes him gag.

“Spider-Man! You alright?” Sam asks, pulling him up.

“Peachy!” Peter replies.

“You were doing great. Keep doing that!” Natasha says.

“Will do!” 

The strawberry monsters are relentless and take a long two hours to detain and completely kill. By the end of it, Peter is exhausted and completely covered in soil and strawberry juice.

“Is it safe to be putting this into my washing machine?” Peter asks.

“I’ll take care of that for you, kid,” Tony says. “You need a ride back to the city?”

Peter sighs in relief. “That’d be great.”

Tony holds out his arms. “Hop on.”

The adrenaline crash is almost immediate and it takes all of the energy Peter has to not fall asleep in the air. 

When he gets home, he has just enough left in him to take off his suit and take a quick shower before passing out in his bed, not even pulling his covers over his body. Sleep welcomes him with open arms and he drifts away for the night.

.-~*~-.

When Peter wakes, there is a soft thumping in his temples. His muscles ache and feel like they’re melting into his bed. He feels heavy.

He finally manages to pull himself out of bed with a yawn and a wince.

The fight must’ve taken out more from him than he thought.

As he pulls on his jeans, he’s barely able to find the fine motor skill and strength to pop the button into its hole; his fingers are weak and trembling.

He does get it though. Albeit, in an embarrassing amount of time that he wouldn’t admit.

Brushing his teeth finds to be as much of a challenge as the jeans.

He can’t quite twist off the cap to his toothpaste and ends up using his teeth. Then, he can’t grip his toothbrush. He has to hold it in a tight fist just to get enough pressure to his teeth to actually clean them. Or, as tight as he can make it. Which isn’t very tight at all.

He exits his room in a blurry fog.

He knows that there’s sound. He’s aware that it exists. It’s always never-ending. A constant in his life he can’t escape.

But today, it’s… dull. Like he’s submerged underwater and all of the input is muffled.

He almost likes it.

It’s almost peaceful.

May and Happy are in the kitchen, chatting about nothing and chewing on toast.

Happy showed May how to not burn toast and Peter is forever grateful to him.

“Morning, Peter,” Happy greets. “I see you made it home safe.”

Peter nods and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “It was long but easy.”

“Well, that’s good,” he replies. “Figured you’d need a protein boost, so I made you a couple omelettes.”

“Thanks, Happy. That’s super awesome of you.” Peter sits at the counter. He’s salivating at just the scent of the dish. “Thank you. It smells amazing.”

“Made it just how you like it.” Happy slides the plate to Peter.

“So, you got a busy day?” May asks, leaning on the counter.

“We’ve got shortened classes today, actually. There’s an in school assembly. An end of the year awards ceremony.”

“That’s exciting!” she coos. “Do you know if you’re nominated for any of them?”

“They’re not those kinds of awards,” Peter says, mouth full. “We don’t know anything about the awards, actually.”

“Huh,” May says. “Well, you’ll have to let me know if anyone I know wins anything.”

“You probably wouldn’t know anyone.”

“I know some people! Like your AcaDec friends! I know them!” May says, voice going high.

“You’re really bad with names, May,” Peter states.

“Well, I know them when you remind me who they are.”

Peter just nods. “I’ll let you know, then.”

She smiles. “Good.”

May and Happy get swept up into a conversation about their date night dinner plans, so Peter checks out. 

He zooms his focus in on the sound of his fork scraping at his plate. It feels heavy in his hand, even heavier when he picks up his food.

“You better head out,” May says, pulling him from his thoughts. “Don’t want to be late again.”

“Right,” he says. “Thanks, May.” He gives her a hug and kisses her on a cheek. “Have a good day, Happy,” he says as he gives him a curt nod.

“You too.”

The subway is almost calm.

It’s not. It never is. But it’s… a smooth cacophony of noise. It blends together into a soft mumble, like ambient background noise in a film.

Time blurs, steady and slow yet startlingly speedy. He has been staring at his reflection in the metal pole as the moments dragged by when the car comes to a stop and people begin to filter out.

The walk to school is even more of a muddled cloud of movement he knows he must be doing yet can’t quite comprehend.

Suddenly, he’s in chemistry. He doesn’t remember getting there, but he’s there, and Ned is looking to him in concern.

“Dude, what’s up with you today?” Ned asks.

“I got called in last night,” Peter says simply.

Ned perks up. “That’s awesome! Was it something big? It wouldn’t be _that_ big or I would’ve heard of it.”

“Strawberry plant monsters.”

Ned’s jaw drops. “Woah. Your life, dude.” He chuckles in disbelief. “Only you.”

Peter squints his eyes as he tries to focus on Mr. Cobbwell’s instructions for the lab but the words just swirl together into a inky pool of nonsense.

“What are we doing?” Peter mumbles.

“Just the usual drop and mix kind of stuff,” Ned says. “Easy peasy.” He hands Peter a lab coat. “So, do you want to be the dropper? I know how much you love measuring stuff.”

Peter nods, his head groaning in protest. He hisses in pain and rubs a palm to his forehead.

The two make it over to their station and Ned sets the beakers on the table.

Peter goes to reach for the pipet but his arm swipes at the beaker and spills the contents all over the table.

“Woah!” Ned exclaims, pushing Peter back and away from the table. “Mr. Cobbwell!” 

“It’s alright! Accidents happen!” Mr. Cobbwell says. “You boys alright? No one got burnt?”

Peter shakes his head, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“Crap, Peter!” 

Peter looks down and sees that his sleeve is soaked.

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Cobbwell says. “That was just the water for the control.” He smiles sympathetically. “Go get a new lab coat. Ned, go fill that back up to three hundred milligrams.”

As Peter goes to the coat closet, he nearly trips over his feet. He goes to grab a coat but it falls onto the floor. When he leans down to pick it up, the room spins and his head pounds harder than before which he hadn’t thought possible. He leans against the door and sucks in shaky breaths, trying to calm the pain.

“You alright, Peter?” Mr. Cobbwell asks.

“Just a little dizzy,” Peter admits. 

“Do you need to go to the nurse?”

Peter shakes his head. “Just got up too quickly.”

Mr. Cobbwell warily lets it go.

Class goes smoothly after that. He finishes the lab and the sharp hammering in his temples has settled to a numb throb. However, the scents of the chemicals are sending him into waves of nausea, overwhelming his senses and making him gag.

He’s grateful that they finish quickly.

As he pulls off his lab coat, he frowns. His arms are a rashy red.

“Ned. You’re sure that was the control water?” Peter asks.

“Yeah. Why?” He eyes his arm. “Oh crap! You’ve gotta go to the nurse.”

Peter shakes his head. “This must’ve been the lab coat. My skin’s really sensitive.”

Ned eyes him with disbelief. “Alright. But if it gets worse, you’re going to nurse, okay?”

“Of course, Ned.” 

The lab report is simple and before he even realizes it, class is over.

He thankfully makes it to Calculus without another vertigo spell but the headache comes back as he realizes that he has a test.

Definite integrals are definitely not integral for real life, and he definitely did not have time to study the night before.

Luckily, math is easy. It’s simple. It makes sense.

Peter flies through the test despite his pain, but as he’s double checking his answers, his eyes start to sting. The sting turns into a burn and his eyes well with sharp tears. He rubs at them in futile attempts to relieve the burn as they just grow more agitated. 

To make matters worse, the burn spreads to his nose and to his mouth. It’s almost like eating a hot pepper except a thousand times worse.

He manages to push away the pain long enough to finish his test, though the pages are stained with his tears. 

By the time he turns it in, the burn has soothed enough to be bearable and he’s able to concentrate on the pain that’s growing again in his temples.

He nearly misses the announcement over the speaker excusing his grade to the assembly.

Peter meets up with Ned in the hallway.

“Dude, seriously, are you okay? You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Peter says flatly.

“I didn’t mean it like that. But, like, did you ingest some radioactive strawberry juice or something?”

Peter shakes his head and groans at the movement. “No. I didn’t.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Peter reassures. “I’m fine.”

As if on cue, pain surges through Peter’s chest, tight and hot and heavy. He grips at his chest, his hand in a loose fist as his eyes squeeze in discomfort.

“Woah! You alright, dude?” Ned asks.

“I…” Peter stops, brows scrunching. The tightness grows stronger as his heart races. “I think I’m just nervous about the awards thing.”

Ned chuckles, relieved. He slaps Peter’s back. “There’s nothing to worry about, dude! When you get an award, you’re gonna give an eloquent yet epic speech and get pity claps from all of your peers and then we’ll celebrate with a large pizza after school. Alright?”

Peter nods, the tightness still not dissipating. “That sounds great.”

“C’mon.” Ned wraps an arm around Peter’s shoulders and they walk to the bleachers.

Peter stares blankly at the stage, the world zeroing into a fuzzy haze. Sharp edges are rounded until they’re shapeless blobs of colors that Peter can’t identify.

All the sound is reverberating in Peter’s eardrums, ringing, singing, ding ding dinging.

He giggles softly to himself but it rips apart his throat. His chest squeezes tighter and makes him wheeze. His breaths are ragged. He can barely sit upright, his eyelids drooping. His body is too heavy to hold up. 

Peter feels a nudge on his side. His eyes drift up, his head lagging slightly behind the motion. “Huh?”

“That was you, dude. You won the award.”

“I won… an award?” Peter replies, the words thick and heavy on his tongue.

Ned furrows his brows in concern. “Yeah dude.”

“Cool.”

Peter pulls himself from the bleachers and makes his way to the stage at the other end of the gym.

He feels as though he’s trudging through molasses, sticky and syrupy as he struggles through it. His eyes fall nearly closed but he fights for them to stay open. 

Peter stumbles up the stairs, unable to find the strength to grip the railing. His hip bumps into the wall with his shoulder following soon after.

His head pounds, the unbearable pressure growing and searing into his temples. He makes it across the stage and stands in place.

The teachers give him odd glances but don’t comment.

“Congratulations, Peter,” Principal Morita says. “There isn’t anyone else that is as worthy of this award than you.”

Peter smiles. Or, he tries to. His lips are weighted down by anvils and he finds the movement extremely straining.

“Would you like to say a few words?” he asks.

“Uh... hm.” Peter gives a lethargic nod and pulls himself to the microphone. He taps at it and a horrendous boom of feedback echoes from the speakers. He winces. “Hi eve...r...y… body,” he slurs. “Tha-ank you for this… award. I don’t… know what it is. Actually. What is this award?” He squints at the tiny words on the shiny metal. “Oh wow. It’s like I’m Mr. Midtown. Fancy dancy, huh?” He gives a thumbs up. “Thank you for… this.” He gives a final peace sign and bumbles off the stage.

Before he can make it far, he’s pulled away by Mrs. Warren.

He tries to grin but his lips are just too heavy. 

“Peter. I’m extremely disappointed in you.”

Peter frowns. _Disappointed? What did he do?_

“Your behavior is completely unacceptable.”

“Huh?” Peter manages to ask.

“Showing up here under the influence? We all thought higher of you, Peter. We should take away that award for heaven’s sake! You are not setting a good example for your peers and we expected better.”

“I’m not… under… _any_ influence,” Peter tries to reason.

She scoffs. “When this assembly is over, you are going to have a long talk with Principal Morita and your guardian.”

Peter’s brows knit together. “But… why?”

“Go back to your seat, Peter. And do not cause _any more_ disruptions.”

Peter, mind numb and body heavy — so, so heavy — makes his way back to his seat.

He’s halfway up the stairs when the world goes all topsy turvy and he’s almost in his seat when the world goes dark.

Peter’s body goes limp and collapses on top of the students sitting in front of him.

“Yo! What the hell man?!” Flash exclaims, pushing Peter off of him when he freezes. “Oh shit! He’s having a seizure!” 

Everyone crowds around him, shooting up from their seats.

Ned’s eyes go wide. “You gotta— you have to, uh put him on his side! Get him on top of the seats!” 

Everyone just stares at him blankly.

“C’mon! Help me move him!”

That gets them moving. Betty, Flash, and Ned pull Peter onto the seat and roll him on his side.

“You shouldn’t hold him down,” Betty says.

“Well, then he’s gonna fall off the seat!” Flash retorts.

“Is someone timing this?” Ned asks.

“I am!” MJ replies, staring at her phone timer.

“He’s not stopping!” Flash exclaims.

As if on cue, Peter’s convulsions come to a sudden halt.

“Peter?” Ned asks softly. He places a soft hand on his shoulder. “Peter?” he repeats.

Peter doesn’t respond.

“Somebody get us some help!” Ned cries.

The gymnasium doors open with a bang.

Flash gasps. “Holy shit! Is that Iron Man?”

Tony flies over to the bleachers. “If you care about your futures in any universities, I’d suggest you get out of my way.”

Everyone flees away.

“Ned!” Tony calls. “What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. He’s been off his game all day, but I— he just—” He takes a breath. “He had a seizure. It was… uh…”

“Thirty two seconds,” MJ supplies.

“And now he won’t wake up,” Ned finishes.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Tony says. “I’m gonna do everything I can to ensure that.” And with that, Tony scoops Peter into his arms and flies out of the gymnasium.

“Is he allowed to do that?” Mrs. Warren asks.

“He’s Iron Man,” Mr. Harrington says. “I don’t think any of us could have stopped him if we wanted to.”

.-~*~-.

Peter awakes slowly. His eyes are sticky and his body is heavy. When he tries to talk, he lets out a small moan instead.

He finally manages to open his eyes and they meet Tony’s who sits in one of the cushy Medbay chairs.

Peter lets out a small groan. “I dropped my trophy.”

Tony stares at him incredulously. “That’s what you’re worried about? A trophy?”

“I was… Mr. Midtown,” Peter says with a soft chuckle.

Tony rushes to his side and pushes his curls out of his face. “Pete, you’ve… you’ve been in a coma.”

Peter’s smile drops. “What?”

“It’s almost been a week. We didn’t… we weren’t sure… it came close, kid. Way too close.”

Peter lets the words sink in. “What happened?”

“You remember the strawberry monsters?” 

Peter nods. “Of course I do.”

Tony sighs. “Well, the field had just been sprayed with pesticides. Specifically, Methyl bromide. Normal humans can get Methyl bromide poisoning by inhaling and ingesting large quantities, but with the mix of your enhanced senses and your spider DNA, the combo meant that you got the brunt of all the effects. Not to mention how much was soaked into your mask. You were practically breathing in the stuff the whole fight.”

Peter grimaces. “Yeah. That wasn’t so fun.”

Tony lets out a startled fun. “Not fun at all.”

The two fall into a silence. Peter plays with his blanket, not meeting Tony’s eyes.

“Am I gonna be okay?” Peter asks.

“Yeah. You’re gonna be okay. Just have to avoid pesticides from now on.” He grins. “Don’t worry I’m already updating your mask so this can’t happen again.”

Peter lights up. “Cool.” His stomach grumbles. “You know what I could really go for right now?”

“What?”

Peter smiles. “Strawberries.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to chat, my Tumblr is [official-impravidus](https://official-impravidus.tumblr.com/)


End file.
